Alternate, part IV, chapter 5, 6, 7

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Alternate

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Chapter 5 of Part IV

Mason got drunk later on the same day.

He had done all he had to, both in the office and in court. He had given his detectives exhaustive instructions concerning Elena Nicholas, her past and present. He had found Pearl and suggested that he describe the Indian to an artist, so that they'd have the portrait of his kidnapper; and this had been done. And it was known that he had been to Pamela's. After this, Mason stayed at Johnny's and got drunk.

Sophia wanted to talk to Brick and to see Johnny; C.C. accompanied her to the Cafe. And while his wife was busy with her son, he noticed his.

C.C. shook his head. On the one hand, it was only too predictable, he told himself; Mason had been through such an ordeal. On the other hand -- he was C.C.'s son, why should he be such a weakling? Quickly, C.C. crossed the hall and sat at Mason's table.

"Good night, son," he said grimly.

Mason's eyes flashed with what C.C. thought to be malicious joy. It was so good to have your invariable opponent, if not enemy, come at such a suitable moment, when your mind was balancing between the desirable darkness of oblivion and the merciless light of reality. Who better to lash out at then if not the one you'd been blaming all your failures on, your whole life?

"Hi dad," Mason said hoarsely. "Came to gloat? To say you knew as much?"

C.C. shook his head again. "No, Mason."

"You know dad, at first I thought they were holding me to ransom," Mason intimated. "I already bid farewell to my miserable existence--"

"Why would you say so?"

"Because I knew you'd hardly stir a finger -- let alone spend a cent -- on your loser of a son."

"Now, this is uncalled-for," C.C. said, trying hard to keep his temper in check. "You are my son--"

"Has this ever meant anything to you? I don't recall such times." Mason paused, looking at C.C. through an empty glass, using it like a telescope. "Dad," he added then, sarcastically.

"Son." C.C. leant across the table and lowered his voice. "What are you doing with your life?"

"Nothing new. Don't act as if you cared, dad; it doesn't become you."

Why was he ever so relentless, thought C.C. with overwhelming bitterness. How much time was wasted on hate. And how easy it was for Mason now to turn down anything his father would say.

Still, he tried again. "Mason, you have Julia waiting for you. She must be worried. You're marrying her--"

"You think I forgot?" Mason frowned. "I don't think I could; but maybe I should."

"What do you mean?" C.C. frowned, too, his mien the very copy of his son's.

"Ah. Just when did you become such a partisan of Julia's, dad?"

C.C. was not a patient man. "Are you going to make the mother of your child suffer?" he boomed. "Don't you think she can reconsider marrying you?"

He looked into his firstborn's eyes. "Or is it exactly what you're trying to make her do?"

"Oh dad," said Mason in a weary tone. "Your attempts at paternal affection--"

"Just a minute, Mason," C.C. was very obstinate when he wanted to. "Is this the effect you're trying to achieve? -- But why? Have you quarrelled?"

"No." Mason raised his eyebrow as if challenging C.C. to guess.

"Got disappointed in her?"

"No."

"So?"

"She's a wonderful woman, dad."

"But you're unhappy with her?"

Mason shook his head. "Wrong again, dad."

"She's a wonderful woman you're happy with, that's why you do everything to make her leave you," C.C. summarized, in disbelief.

"This time you got it right."

"No, Mason!" -- but C.C. already knew this was true; it was scary to look at Mason's ghost of a smile, just like peeping into an abyss. "Why, son?"

Normally, Mason would never answer such a question, not his father's anyway. But this time -- either it was today's meeting with Pamela that influenced him so, or alcohol after a long period of abstaining, -- this time he spoke up.

"Mother left me," he said. "She loved me but she left me."

C.C. knew this was a wound never healed, an act never forgiven. He just did not know what to say, so he kept silent; and this was for the better, for Mason took a long, long dramatic pause.

"Mary," he said, and then he coughed, covering a nervous spasm in his throat. "She loved me, and she left me forever."

"And you're afraid Julia will leave you?" To C.C. this was unfathomable. "You're so afraid you're pushing her away? Too much afraid to risk? Too much afraid to take the responsibility for the breakup?!"

Mason laughed. "No, I'm not afraid."

"Right," C.C. said, aghast. "You're terrified."

"You'll see," Mason argued. "She won't want me. No one does."

Helpless, C.C. looked at his firstborn, and in him, fury mixed with the painful realization he was responsible for his son turning out like this.

"Just go away now, please, dad," Mason asked. "Please. Just go away now."

"Mason--"

"Go away."

Sophia had come quietly; now she squeezed C.C.'s shoulder. "Let's go, honey."

C.C. stood up and turned to look at his son again. "Mason. Do you--" His voice failed him. "Do you want to go home with us? Spend the night in your own old room--"

Mason shook his head, the same strange smile playing on his lips. "No, dad. There's no coming back."

Chapter 6 of Part IV

"He says he doesn't need anyone," Brick explained.

Being the owner of "Johnny's", and Julia's friend, too, he was calling Julia to tell her not to worry, since there was every indication that Mason was staying at the bar till the closing time. Maybe all night.

"Brick," Julia said helplessly. "Please. Get him home. Oh please."

"But why?" Brick was not too thrilled with the idea. "The man's so drunk there's no talking to him. He wants to stay here. Let him! Why should you make such a fuss?"

Julia sat down. Mason getting drunk was bad enough, in her universe, but not having him home when the nights were like this for him promised to be worse.

"Brick, you just don't understand," she said. "It would be just way too cruel to let him stay there alone."

"He can go to another bar that's open all night."

"Of course he can. The question is, do you want a pregnant woman -- almost your aunt, by the way -- to be running after him from one bar to another all night long!"

"Julia," Brick said reproachfully. "I really do not see the point. If the guy thinks it fit to stay out for the night, why should you worry so? Go to bed and relax. You're pregnant and need your rest. Let him spend the night in a ditch or wherever he chooses."

"Brick!!"

Julia was growing desperate. She was not going to share with him the intimate details of how Mason's trauma realized itself, but she could not let Mason down, either.

"Believe me," she said. "I can't sleep unless Mason is with me. Of course I'd rather he were sober, but since that version is not available at the moment--"

"I am sure you're making a mistake," Brick said. "If Mason supposes he can treat a woman like you this way, and he's not your husband yet -- think what he will do to you when you are husband and wife!"

"It's my problem, Brick," Julia said coolly.

Actually this bothered her, too, and to hear it voiced from almost a stranger -- and then, "How do you know it's not a kind of test he's putting you through?" made her sigh deeply.

She did not know; she just did not know. Whether Mason was trying to have her react in a certain way, or he just could not fight his drinking habit any longer -- it did not seem as important as getting him home for the night.

"Do you or do you not want me to spend the night at the bar stand?" she specified.

Brick sighed, too. "I'll ask Pearl to get Mason to you," he said. "I have my hands full with Johnny, and the place to run, and--"

"Thank you Brick," Julia interrupted.

She hated people telling her what to do; when she knew some course of action was right she could sacrifice anything to follow it. In this case, she could doubt she should be marrying Mason, but she had no doubts she would not leave Mason alone to face his demons, this night.

She'd think about it later, she told herself like Scarlett O'Hara and smiled. There would be plenty of time to think later, when Mason was at home and she was sitting by, holding his hand and wiping his brow. Was it the masochist in her speaking, she wondered; she honestly did not know.

"You're making a mistake, Julia," Brick said again. "You ought to respect yourself more."

"Ok. Is Pearl there, please?"

Pearl was around; he seemed to be around every time he was needed. "No problem Julia," he said cheerfully.

"Oh Pearl!" she exclaimed. It was such a relief to hear him, after this exhausting lecture. "Thank you, Pearl. Are you sure you're not my guardian angel, after all?"

Pearl only smiled, - but just because it was his usual way to react.

Julia had no idea how close she was to the truth.

As the fates decreed -- and no one had asked Pearl whether he wanted this or not -- he really was a kind of guardian angel for many people in Santa Barbara; just a little bit too many for him to manage to save them all and to help them all out of trouble.

He did his best, of course, as became an angel; and he was wise and had no private life, as, most probably, became an angel, too.

*

Mason woke up with a start. There had been no nightmare this time -- just the black emptiness all around. With some difficulty, he opened his eyes. He was on the couch in his own lounge, fully dressed but still with a pillow under his head. "Julia," he thought.

One night of drinking; surely it wasn't such a big deal. But Mason knew he'd have to apologize to Julia. He did not remember how he had got home, or what he might have said to her.

Trying not to make noise, Mason got on his feet and, with dismay, found he could not coordinate his movements too well. It was dark. He switched on a little lamp on the desk and looked at his watch. Three a.m.

Mason tiptoed to the bedroom and peeped in. Julia was sleeping, and though he could not see it he knew she had been crying. Her position showed she was cold; carefully, Mason threw a blanket over her. He wanted to touch her hair but he did not dare.

Mason Capwell hated feeling ashamed. And shame was what he usually felt after he had gotten drunk. Of course only if there was a person who cared if he had; and Julia was definitely such a person. Leaning against the doorpost and watching her sleep, Mason was trying to sort out his emotions, but unsuccessfully. Maybe he had drunk too much, or he had not drunk enough.

She needed her sleep, Mason told himself at last and gently closed the door. His heartfelt monologues could wait.

Well, he did not want to sleep. As quietly as before he went to the nursery and sat down by Matthew's cot. His son was asleep, his small fists lying on both sides of his head. What was he dreaming about, Mason wondered.

He sat like this for a while, and then Matt's little face got distorted, he waved his hands and started crying. Mason hurried to take him in his arms. "Hush, daddy's here."

The baby wept a little, but soon calmed down in daddy's arms. "A bad dream?" Mason asked him. "I know what this can be like. Hush, let's try not to wake up our Julia."

Matt seemed to agree. He closed his eyes and fell asleep again. Mason could replace him into his cot; but for some reason he did not want to. He kept walking to and fro, lulling the baby and talking to him in whispers.

"Daddy's here, Matt, and daddy loves you," he was saying.

Little Matt was probably the most real thing in Mason's universe, and Mason was his only living parent. Mason knew he could dally with the idea he was still free to jump out of his commitment with Julia if he wanted to; but there was this responsibility for the tiny human being he could not shift onto anybody. And this did not feel like a burden, rather like a privilege -- to take care of the little one, to help him grow and develop and to be -- responsible.

"You'll get a new brother or sister soon, Matt," Mason said. "And you know what? In MY family there will be no 'first-rate' and 'second-rate' children. I loved your mother like I never knew I could; and I love Julia though I thought I could never love again. I do believe you have taught me lots of things, son..." he smiled, "things my own father failed to teach me. And you'll see, I won't let you down."

Mason grimaced and amended, "I'll try not to."

Chapter 7 of Part IV

In the morning, Julia had to collect herself before facing Mason. She realized she was afraid to see him; she was afraid she would not be able to contain her temper, and then she would feel ashamed, of course, because -- if a man drank a bit too much once in a while, was that a big deal? Especially when he had every reason to? And was it wise of his wife (not even his wife yet) to make a scene? Was he not a grown-up man?

Julia bit her lip and stood up. She did not remember how she had got the blanket -- could that be Mason who'd taken care of her?

If that was him, it'd be easier not to lash out.

Julia expected to find Mason still asleep on the couch but he was not there. She heard his voice from the nursery-- singing?!

'Hush, little baby, don't you yell;
Daddy's hungover and he feels like hell.'

Julia smiled. She loved him.

"Didn't know you could sing," she said from behind the nursery door. "Or compose lyrics."

There was a short pause, and then the door opened. Mason, with Matt in his arms, was smiling his best disarming smile. "Just tell me how many apologies I must fit into my next poem."

Julia shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't think I like this gesture," Mason commented. "It's like saying, what do I care? And I know you care. At least I hope so."

He looked at her questioningly.

Julia did not quite expect this. Her good intentions went the way all intentions of the kind go. "I do," she said. "And I see I am the only one who does. I mean, I think I was the last thing on your mind yesterday when you went to that bar. Went to get drunk -- just after you'd blamed me it was me who was pushing you to drinking -- just after I told you my father was an alcoholic--"

"I'm sorry," Mason said.

"Yeah, right!" Julia interrupted. "You ARE sorry; very sorry; you despise yourself, you do not like yourself; how hard it is to live with yourself under the circumstances! And to forget it you go and drink more. I know the mechanism, Mason, I've got a first-rate training, I told you!"

"I'm sorry but I think you're overreacting, Julia," Mason said frowning.

Julia took a deep breath. "Tell me, Mason, what were you thinking of when you were about to order your first drink yesterday?"

After a short pause, Mason replied, "As far as I remember I tried not to think of anything. I know it proves I am self-centered. I am sorry."

Julia nodded, tears glistening on her eyelashes. She hated it when she was losing self-control, and though she knew she could blame it all on her hormones, she was still displeased with herself.

"But Julia," Mason went on in a reasonable tone Julia detested, "I am what I am! The man you fell in love with. A woman cannot reform a man, and there shouldn't be any illusion about it; I am not going to--"

Suddenly, Julia inhaled sharply and sat down on the side of the desk.

"What is it?" Mason rushed to her." What is it, Julia?"

"Nothing -- I just got a good, swift kick!"

"Are you all right? Is this -- the baby?"

"Of course -- what else can it be?"

She smiled and quickly reached out for his hand that she pressed to her belly.

"Oh -- but this is -- unbelievable!" he said. "You can actually feel the foot!"

Julia laughed, the offense immediately forgotten. This was her baby -- their baby; she cherished the sensation of her precious baby pushing inside and the man she loved sharing in the happiness. Mason's facial expression was priceless!

Mason shifted his gaze from Julia's belly to her face. Meeting her laughing eyes he smiled back, and then he took her head in his hands, leant down and kissed her.

His kiss differed from those the day before, in bed. It started almost like a token of gratitude and awe for the woman carrying his baby. Julia's lips tasted salty, and Mason wanted to kiss the tears away, to make her forget she'd cried. And when he kissed her once, he could not stop. He got almost aggressive in his passion, crushing her lips with his, drinking her breath, pressing her to him as close as her belly would allow. He was hungry for Julia, and he wouldn't let her go.

Julia threw her arms round his neck and gave in to him with abandonment. Mason saw it'd be impossible to stop if it lasted another second; he made a tremendous effort and drew back.

"Mason?" Julia pouted.

"Julia," he said breathing heavily. "I want you so. We'd better stop right now, you know."

She looked so lost.

The doorbell rang. "Must be the nanny," Mason commented. He rearranged his jacket and his tie and opened the door. "Good morning, Mrs. Cobb."

"Morning," said Julia automatically and started for the bathroom.

"Counselor!" Mason called, and she turned back. "May I ask you out for a date tonight?"

Was there ever born a woman who could say 'no' to Mason when he was like this, Julia wondered.

To be continued
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